


Trouble at the Lighthouse

by EvannEscence (KrikkitWars)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ocean views, accidental stalking, zoo times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrikkitWars/pseuds/EvannEscence
Summary: "Vince had always thought living in a lighthouse would be fun. And, for the most part, it was. Although climbing up the staircase was a right pain in the arse after a long day mucking out zoo enclosures, it had always been worth it for the magical whimsy of lighthouse living.However, Vince was beginning to regret these living arrangements.It didn’t help that the lighthouse only had one exit."There's something sneaking into Vince's house at night, causing havoc. Can he find the culprit before his insomnia gets the better of him?
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 29
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever, let alone for this fandom, so please be gentle. It was supposed to be a one-shot about Vince's lighthouse from the radio series but the narrative flow just wouldn't let me go... I guess the draw of The Boosh was too strong to resist.

The well-worn stairs creaked. A thump, like warm flesh striking metal, echoed into the night, followed by a guttural groan of pain. A hunched, ungainly figure lurched onwards up the lighthouse steps, rattling the ancient wood.

The frozen night air was invaded by the hot tendrils of the figure’s breath. It was a long way up to the modest living quarters above. The door was unlocked, as always. Why should anyone, or anything, try clamber up the lighthouse steps in complete darkness? However, behind the door, waiting for the intruder’s arrival, were countless percussion instruments piled up in a makeshift barricade. Oblivious, the figure turned the bronze doorhandle and heaved its way through.

Vince woke with a start to a crescendo of maracas, triangles, and cymbals crashing onto the floor. Without haste, Vince ran down into the living room, armed with a tennis racket and some styling tongs. The monster was not getting away from him this time.

The hairs on the back of his neck rising to attention, Vince glanced around the hexagonal room. The lighthouse beacon above cast ugly, disfigured shadows on every surface. Ordinarily, Vince thought the vivid lighting added a bizarre ambiance to the place. Often, when he first moved in, he and Howard would stay up late making shadow-puppets against the pale blue walls, giggling, and telling stories. Now though, Vince saw creatures writhing in every corner. They lurked in the silence, waiting for him to turn his back.

The first place Vince searched was by the front door. To his surprise, the musical instruments he stacked up there as a precaution were piled back up in their crate next to his record collection. ‘What sort of monster cleans up after itself?’, puzzled Vince as he glanced past the open door and down the staircase. There were no monsters waiting for him down that rusty corkscrew of steps. The thumps and grunts had ceased, and, once again, Vince’s monster-hunting escapade had failed.

He sighed mournfully. His tennis racket and straighteners dropped to the floor with a resounding thud, but Vince barely heard them fall. Two weeks he had been doing this, chasing vacant noises throughout the night, and the wear was beginning to show.

Vince’s hands shook weakly at his sides. Dark, painful bruises congregated under his bleary, irritated eyes. Even Vince’s neatly feathered hair hung limp over his pyjama-clad shoulders. There was a dull, throbbing ache needling at the back of his skill. The product of too many sleepless nights fearfully staring into the shadows, waiting for his night-time stalker to strike, hung heavily on his frame.

Vince had always thought living in a lighthouse would be fun. And, for the most part, it was. He could spend hours watching the waves crashing against the coastline or chat endlessly with the seagulls as they flew out from the shore in the morning. Sometimes he would be late to arrive at the Zooniverse, having engrossed himself in a Bowie-related discussion with his avian friends. And although climbing up the staircase was a right pain in the arse after a long day mucking out zoo enclosures, it had always been worth it for the magical whimsy of lighthouse living.

However, Vince was beginning to regret these living arrangements. 

It didn’t help that the lighthouse only had one exit.

~ ~

When Vince trudged into the Zooniverse the next day, he barely had the energy to lift his feet as he stepped through the front gate. As always, Graham let him in without question. A lucky thing, as Vince had forgotten his staff ID badge for the sixth day in a row. He had lost it (again) somewhere in the lighthouse, but there was no change he would risk looking for it, not with a monster on the loose up there.

Howard was already working his way into his daily jazz trance when Vince entered the keeper’s hut. He was swaying along to a jazzy beat, scatting softly to himself and jutting his hands about awkwardly in the air. Normally Vince begrudgingly enjoyed snapping Howard out of a jazz trance. The playful banter which followed was often the highlight of Vince’s day. Today, however, the older man’s antics were grating. They tugged away at Vince’s already frayed nerves.

“Howard!” he yelled, waving his hands in his friend’s face as vigorously as he could manage.

Nothing changed.

“Look Howard, I’m not in the mood for this right now, alright?”

Still the trance carried on regardless. Vince groaned.

“Howaaarrrrddd!!!!” Vince whined, this time tugging sharply on Howard’s arm. “Come on, you big Northern lump, I ain’t got time for this.”

The jazz fuelled musings continued unabated. Vince grew increasingly restless. He could feel hives developing round his neck, the constant scatting playing havoc with his allergies.

He tried slapping Howard’s face, an almost guaranteed method to end a jazz trance. But Howard just kept on dancing.

“Howard for fuck’s sake!!” Vince screamed furiously, lashing out and kicking his friend hard in the shin with his silver Chelsea boot.

“Owwww!!!” yelled Howard. Sharp pain radiated in shockwaves up his leg. “What’s got into you Vince? That really hurt!”

Vince backed away, folding his arms tightly and lowering his head. The irritation, flaring brightly within him only moments ago, was extinguished. Instead, he stood in front of Howard shaking. Vince looked up at Howard from beneath his bedraggled fringe. He couldn’t even muster the energy that morning to do his hair. He looked like a drowned bushbaby.

Howard blinked furiously, his expression dropping from anger into confusion, finally settling into deep-seated worry. This wasn’t how the conversation went, their morning routine. Where were all the jibes? Where was the ribbing about jazz being the death of music? As Vince just stood there, huddling into himself like a tortoise into its shell, Howard felt as if ice-water was streaming into his skull. Something was very, VERY wrong with his little man.

“What, err…” Howard faltered, “What’s wrong Vince? What’s happened? Was it Fossil? I know he can be a bit…” He swallowed, “…abrasive sometimes but he didn’t hurt you, did he? Was it Joey, then? Because I told you what would happen if you kept antagonising him. Did he- “

“Howard, what’re you on about?” Vince rebutted, aware that Howard could spew out a never-ending stream of rambling worries if not put in check. “I’m alright.”

Howard looked incredulous. For once staring directly into Vince’s eyes, as if attempting to extract his soul.

“The why do you look so…” Howard started. He was determined to get to the bottom things but lost his nerve when a veritable monsoon of anxieties crashed into his head.

“So… what?”

“Dishevelled,” he concluded. “Like you’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge.”

“I just had a rough sleep last night, that’s all,” Vince backtracked. He tried desperately to evade Howard’s gaze. “Sorry ‘bout your leg, Howard, I didn’t mean to kick you that hard.”

With that, Vince hastened off into the kitchen. There was no way Howard could know about the monster in the house, he would go ballistic. He’d probably ask Vince to move out, coercing him into some beige flat right next to a Tesco’s. The thought of living in a one window flat with sickly fluorescent lighting made him shudder.

Worse still was the thought that Howard wouldn’t care. That he would tell Vince he was overreacting. Howard had brushed his problems away as frivolous and idiotic too many times to count, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. Better to just slap on the sunshine-kid façade and get on with things. Besides, Sandi the turtle’s carrots weren’t going to peel themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

Vince waded through the rest of the day in a haze. He tried desperately to mask his yawning and weak limbs with excuses of low blood sugar or boredom at Howard’s ‘colon explorer’ antics. By mid-morning, the keeper’s hut was overflowing with empty soft drink cans, Howard’s solution to the so-called ‘blood sugar’ problems.

Every time Vince stopped talking suddenly or gazed blearily at Howard for just a moment too long, the older keeper would panic. Thousands of ‘are you okay, Vince’s’ punctuated their work schedule. Every time, Vince would brush him off and keep muffling yawns into his sleeve when he though no one was looking. Finally, Howard, twitchier than ever, gave up asking and resigned himself to peering anxiously at Vince for the rest of their shift.

It all came to a head when Vince ran off after lunch break to play table tennis with Bollo. However often Howard chided him for ‘mucking about’ with the animals instead of working, Vince’s weekly ping-pong tournaments always went ahead. If he didn’t allow Vince to visit Bollo at least twice a day, the gorilla would inflict his revenge. A furious three-hundred-pound ape hurtling towards you with a small red and black racket could be quite convincing.

However, when Vince finally reached the gorilla’s enclosure, he just couldn’t get into the spirit of the game. He was missing serves left right and centre, puffing himself out over the smallest of manoeuvres, and his arms were aching fiercely even after the first round.

“Time out,” Vince huffed wanly, throwing his paddle down. He all but collapsing onto Bollo’s nest of hay.

“What wrong?” grunted Bollo, ambling over to his side.

“I need a rest,” he sighed. Too tired to consider the mess it would make of his hair, Vince flopped his head onto the mottled straw.

Bollo thumped down beside him, pulling Vince into his furry lap, and proceeded to stroke the hair from his eyes as delicately as his fingers would allow.

“Poor Vincey, sleep tight,” whispered the wise old ape, lulling his friend into the most peaceful sleep he had had in two long weeks.

~ ~

Between keeping a close eye on Vince and completing all the deranged tasks Bob Fossil set for him, Howard was strung so tightly he felt he might launch into the stratosphere at the slightest provocation. He had certainly noticed Vince’s strange behaviour over the last few weeks. However, his friend’s moods were fickle at the best of times.

In hindsight, Howard realised, Vince’s leaps from bone-tired to his usual hyperactive-sunshine-kid demeanour should have told him that something was wrong. But Vince was a surprisingly good actor when he needed to be. The younger man had always subscribed to the ‘fake it ‘till you make it’ attitude, often blinding Howard to the real struggles he faced. Throughout the day, Howard studied Vince when he turned away to scrub at his reddened eyes, only to pop back round with a megawatt smile plastered on his face.

Howard couldn’t help but speculate about Vince’s health. It was nearing mid-afternoon when he came to the devastating conclusion that Vince must be dying. He friend was deathly ill, withering away as he watched. How had Howard not seen the signs earlier?

He had seen Vince every day since their gap year before they came to the zoo. Howard had even taken to following Vince home sometimes, just to make sure he was taking care of himself up there in the lighthouse. Living alone was a huge undertaking, one that he didn’t think Vince could tackle without supervision. It was clear now, in Howard’s mind, that even his watchful guidance hadn’t been enough to stop the little man from coming to grief.

As he stood thigh deep in the flamingo pond, fishing out the debris left over from Fossil’s infamous ‘Swamp Soiree’, Howard decided that he couldn’t just watch as Vince wilted away with this illness: he had to act.

Howard’s eyes darted through the glass of the flamingo enclosure and out towards Bollo’s cage. From this obscured angle, he couldn’t see either Bollo or Vince at ping-pong table. In a panic, Howard realised he hadn’t spoken to Vince for over an hour. Anxiety squeezed his throat like a boa constrictor, strangling his organs and choking off any scraps of calm left inside him.

With a drawn-out squeak, Howard struggled desperately out of the pond, emerging with a thick coating of algae on his legs. He bolted manically over to the gorilla enclosure, limbs flying.

Howard fumbled with the latch.

Finally, the wooden door swung open, revealing both Bollo and Vince collapsed in the corner of the cage. Vince was cradled delicately in the gorilla’s arms, under Bollo’s half chewed tyre-swing. His pallid flesh shimmered starkly against the dark, matted fur.

Over the many years of their friendship, Howard had seen the younger man asleep countless times. However, even as Vince mumbled softly about porpoise races, Howard saw only how pale and gaunt Vince had become; how ill. He approached the two nestled figures, sheer horror leaching into every step. He reached out, ready to haul Vince back to the land of the living.

Bollo stirred. He looked Howard up and down, his piercing blue eyes erupting with hostility. The ape jolted towards him. He growled fiercely from the depths of his throat. His teeth were bared in warning. They were like thick, bony razors, stained with age but defiantly sharp. Howard’s fingers tingled subconsciously, fear seeping into his pores.

All the commotion was disturbing Vince’s otherwise peaceful dose. He huffed softly in his sleep, snuggling his face further into Bollo’s thigh. His eyelids twitched. He sniffed heavily, then sighed. Reluctantly, Vince opened his eyes and gazed blearily up at Howard.

“Alright?” Vince greeted, a tentative smile coming to rest on his face.

Howard blanched.

“No, it is most certainly not _alright_ , sir,” he screeched, scurrying over to Vince’s side, and checking him for any noticeable damage. “You’ve been wandering about half-comatose all day, exhausted and off colour and… You look like a corpse Vince! And to top it all off I find you unconscious in the cage of a wild animal!”

Bollo sulked off, downtrodden. Who was Harold calling wild? He was a refined ape of culture and intelligence. What a ballbag, he thought.

Vince just sighed and bit his lip. He tried and failed to look away from Howard’s molten, chocolate eyes. They gazed into his soul with sticky, sweet concern. Howard looked achingly distraught on Vince’s behalf.

Try as he might, Vince could never win against a look like that. It was the kind of look that said, ‘I love you Vince, let me protect you’. Or at least, that’s what Vince hoped it said.

He decided to give in, to tell his tale, and to let Howard comfort him in the way he did best. Maybe Howard would even give him a hug for his troubles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince finally explains himself. Howard realises just how wrong he's been.

“There’s a monster stalking me at night.”

Vince’s words echoed, piercing through the silence.

They had relocated to the privacy of the keeper’s hut and were now sporting matching mugs of tea at Vince’s insistence. If he was going to have a heart-to-heart with Howard, he at least wanted some sort of safety blanket. It was important to feel comfortable, just in case his often pompous friend decided Vince’s worries were too childish to be taken seriously.

Contrary to Vince’s initial fears, however, Howard seemed haggard and stricken at the mere mention of a ‘monster’. With increasing fervour, Vince continued.

“It’s been around for weeks now. I get home from work, brush my hair, get into bed, then just as I’m nodding off… WHAAM!” Vince’s hands shot out theatrically, then he paused for dramatic effect, ever the storyteller. “I’ll hear the front door bang open. Or these thumping great footsteps coming up the stairs. Or there’ll be something scratching along my bedroom walls, like it’s trying to get in.”

Howard’s eyes were darting around the room, looking even shiftier than normal. Vince, caught up in the narrative flow, continued unperturbed.

“But that’s not even the weirdest thing, though. Cause even if I just lay there pretending to be asleep, I get this feeling… Like somebody’s watching me.”

Howard’s expression turned from shiftiness to pure unbridled guilt. Vince couldn’t possibly have noticed him ‘checking up on him’, could he? Howard took a sip of his tea, hoping to mask his reaction in some way. Vince’s story was beginning to branch into dangerously incriminating territories, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“It’s been really freakin’ me out,” Vince surged on. “I wouldn’t mind if I could see the thing, maybe then I could reason with it, but just hearing all those creepy noises. Just waiting to get eaten, or perved on, or whatever the thing wants, its harrowing. That’s why I’ve been so tired recently, that thing’s been keeping me up all night, it’s well stressful.”

If moustaches could wince, Howard’s would be doing so. It looked as if it might shrivel from his top lip entirely.

“I’ve tried hunting it down, yeah. Of course, I have,” Vince proclaimed, his speech muffled by a fingernail which had worked its way into his mouth. Vince bit absently on his cuticle as he elaborated, “I searched the entire lighthouse, top to bottom, looking in all the little hiding places. It’s a right mess up there now, you should see the state of it. Thing is, every time I turned to look in a different room, the thumping would start up somewhere else. Like the monster was giving me the run around.

“About a week ago I was sure I was on its scent. It was in the storeroom below the stairs, and I was right outside the door waiting for it. I had it cornered, yeah, there was no escape. But just as I opened the door, this moth came down out of nowhere and started flapping all up in my face! She was well angry cause I usually leave out some sweets for her kids when they’re drawn in by the lighthouse beacon, but I’d forgot. I was too caught up in all this monster hunting business, wasn’t I?”

Howard hummed along, reluctantly urging his friend back to his original point.

“So, anyway, I was caught up in the commotion, tattered brown wings coming down at me.” Vince waved his hands over Howard’s head rapidly, miming along with the action. “And while I was busy swatting the moth away, it escaped!”

“What did...?” Howard replied distractedly, eyes darting to follow Vince’s wild hand movements.

“The MONSTER!” Vince cried, exasperated. “I was so close! From there, I knew I had to come up with a plan.”

However, Vince’s planning skills weren’t as rapid as he was leading Howard to believe. Vince had scoured every crevice of the lighthouse once again, hoping to get closer to the monster. By midnight he was exhausted, panicked, and covered in dust from that moth’s filthy wings. He had collapsed to the floor at the foot of the stairs, his eyes welling with frustrated tears.

By all accounts, that wasn’t how things normally went for Vince. He was Vince Noir, Rock and Roll Star, a fearless front man, a puller of shapes. But that night he had choked on his own salty tears, dreading the moment the monster would come to finish him off. He hadn’t felt like a star that night. He had felt like a little boy again; lost in the forest, surrounded by hungry animals howling in the night.

Howard sensed Vince’s discontent. It niggled at him as Vince chewed harder at his fingernails, eyes becoming mournfully distant. This wasn’t the direction Howard had expected the story to go in. It might have been better if Vince were ill after all, he conceded ruefully. Illness was easier to handle that the thought of Vince running around his house in the dark, terrorised, and utterly alone.

Christ, this was all Howard’s fault.

“So, what was the plan?” Howard nudged, itching to reach out and comfort Vince in some way.

“Oh,” Vince began, the clouds of his memories finally parting. “I decided to set a trap for the thing. I figured that way I wouldn’t have to run around in my PJs for hours for another week. So, I went looking round the zoo for some sort of animal trap.” Vince knew that Joey Moose kept some pretty lethal looking traps in his locker for ‘special occasions’. “And I managed to sneak this massive bear trap home in me duffle bag. I set it up right outside my bedroom door, covered it in some sequins so it wouldn’t look out of place, then sat on my bed, and waited.

“It was midnight when I heard the footsteps again. My heart was leaping about like techno mouse at a rave. As soon as I heard the trap shut, I ran out the door to confront the creeping bastard. But guess what?” Howard remained silent, picking at the hem of his trousers. Vince surged on regardless, “He got away again! Scurried off into the night. And that’s not even the weirdest thing. Caught in the trap’s big metal teeth was a russet brown hiking boot! I mean, what kind of sick monster wears shoes that hideous?!”

“Robust fawn,” Howard muttered resentfully under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he coughed, rubbing surreptitiously his shins.

Those serrated teeth had cut his ankles up something awful.

“Anyway, I was nearly out of options,” Vince continued, seemingly unbothered by Howard’s questionable behaviour. “But then I thought, ‘what if I get someone to guard the place?’ Then I could get some sleep and they would protect me. So, I thought, who is the strongest person I know? Someone who could fend off anything?”

“Bollo...?” Howard guessed.

“Charlie!”

Howard groaned heavily. Not more of this Charlie nonsense.

“Genius plan, right?” Vince enthused, only slightly perturbed by Howard’s hostile reaction. “He’s well good at watching over people in the night-times.” Howard shuddered. “So, he agreed to keep me company while I slept, and wake me up if anything weird started happening. It went pretty well ‘til the morning. See, I kept tossing and turning in my sleep, because I was still dead scared even though Charlie was around. And when I woke up, my hair was stuck to the pillow! Turns out Charlie had come to check on me in the night and got gum all over my sheets. It was a nightmare! Took me ages to get all the pink bits outta my hair. That’s why I was late to work last Thursday, d’you remember?” Vince ruffled his streaked hair dejectedly, “It still don’t feel right when I brush it.”

Since then, Vince had lost all motivation to find the monster. Besides some half-hearted attempts at barricading his door, Vince had all but given up. If the monster could ruin his precious hair and get away with it, then his luck had well and truly run out.

“At this point, I just wanna sleep,” Vince sighed. “But I don’t even know what to do. I’ve tried everything I can think of and nothing’s worked. So, that’s it, I suppose. It’s pointless me even trying now. I promise I didn’t mean to fall asleep in Bollo’s cage today, Howard, honest. It’s just,” Vince let out a long, drawn out breath, hand carding through his hair desperately. 

“I’m so tired, Howard. I’m just so tired.”


	4. Chapter 4

Howard’s resolve flaked like ancient wallpaper. A myriad of excuses were settling like dust in his lap, reasons why it simply wasn’t possible to wrap his arms around Vince’s shaking shoulders. To lean in and whisper reassurances against his friend’s warm skin. Vince had always responded best to touch, Howard knew. But the yawning chasm between this knowledge and putting it to action, as with many problems in Howard’s life, felt nigh on impossible to cross.

Now though, with Vince sitting solemnly beside him, there was a landslide in the chasm. Though the path was rough, if he survived the fall out, Howard knew he could make it to the other side. All it would take was a leap of faith.

Howard reached out, tentatively placing his arm around Vince’s tremulous body. He expected backlash, but none came. He should have been brushed off, glared at in distain, or even hit and screamed at, Howard thought. Nobody could blame Vince if he did, after all, that’s what Mrs Gideon and countless others had done. Looney Moon’s overprotectiveness had stuck again and this time his little man was bearing the brunt of this torturous desperation. Hypocrisy and shame welled up inside Howard, threatening to overflow, like his salty tears into Gideon’s ornamental fishpond.

Oblivious, Vince leant wholeheartedly into Howard’s waiting arms. He made a soft, contented little noise in the back of his throat, bringing his face to the crook of Howard’s neck to nuzzle slightly. Howard felt dreadfully far from his comfort zone. He was traversing the wild plains of the unknown, yet it seemed the mountainous ravine of affection had been crossed successfully.

Howard proceeded to stroke Vince’s back gently for good measure, massaging away the unfamiliar tension. He had an awful lot to make up for.

~ ~

The hug was magical, better than anything Vince could have imagined. He had expected a pat on the shoulder, or a lingering touch to his forearm, maybe even an arm around the back of the sofa, one that he could surreptitiously press up into, but this cuddle wasn’t anything like that. It was so intimate. He could feel Howard’s hot breath lapping against his neck, warmth radiating down his spine. Howard’s strong, calloused hands were tenderly stroking his shoulder blades. It was heavenly.

Vince felt instantly energized, like condensed lightning was passing from Howard’s broad chest directly into Vince’s heart. His mental batteries were slowly recharging, and his mind-cogs were spinning freely for the first time in days. It occurred to him that Howard must have been pretty concerned for his wellbeing to consider this level of physical contact. If Howard were prepared to snuggle up against him for so long, he must have thought Vince was in monstrously deep trouble. Perhaps he still did.

Vince knew he could only push his luck so far. The instant Howard cottoned on to any attempts of milking the situation, the tender embraces and kindness would be revoked indefinitely. Still, it was worth a try, he thought.

“Hey, Howard?” Vince mumbled, his face still resting against Howard’s willowy neck.

“What is it, little man?”

“I was thinking,” he continued, spurred on by Howard’s casual use of ‘little man’. With his body resting almost entirely in the other man’s arms, the pet name had never felt more apt. “What if you stayed the night at mine?”

“Err… W-what?” Howard stumbled. He froze like a glacier against Vince’s prone body.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Vince flustered, “I just thought you should come sleep at the lighthouse with me. You know, keep me company up there. We’re a double act, right Howard? We’re a team. If that monster shows up again, we can take it on together!”

Vince was beaming now, pulling his face back a little so he could grin up at Howard encouragingly. The older man remained silent. Vince toned down the smile, instead enlarging his eyes to full bushbaby proportions and tilting his head to the side.

To his dismay, Howard backed away entirely, his face artificially apologetic.

“That- that’s a kind offer, Vince, but I don’t think it’ll work out,” he said, carefully constructing a means for his escape. “I mean, well I’m not exactly a fighter, am I? What could I do if this ‘monster’ came after you? I think it’s best for both of us if I leave well enough alone. I’m sure this pers-” he panicked, “thing! Monster, whatever it is, will get bored eventually and move on to someone else. I mean, somewhere else. Probably…”

“Oh, come on Howard. It’ll be genius! We could watch films together. Or put some of my records on. We could even have a proper crimping session! ‘S been ages since we’ve had time for one of those, right?”

Howard nodded along, hesitantly. He didn’t like where this was going. He knew he needed to back off from Vince’s life. His moves were far too ripe for Vince to withstand and, from experience, it would only get worse if he didn’t nip his obsessive behaviour at the bud.

On the other hand, it really _had_ been a long time since they’d crimped together.

“I’ll think about it,” Howard finally supplied.

“You always say that!”

“And it’s always true. I’m a deep thinker.”

“As if,” Vince huffed playfully. “You said you we’re thinkin’ bout getting me those Bovril Hula Hoops, and that Mick Jagger alarm clock. Where are they?”

“I’ll get them, alright. In my own sweet time. Howard Moon moves at his own pace, sir,” he chided, falling into their familiar two-way banter.

“Do you really?”

“That’s right. I make the rules when old father time comes a knocking. I chain him up like a feisty mule, whipping him into line.”

“Is that what you think deeply about then?” Vince giggled. “That is well kinky. Maybe it’s for the best you don’t come into my house, yeah. I’ll be in bondage by six-thirty if you’re in charge.”

“Six-” Howard faltered, taken off guard. Would Vince really forbid him from entering his house if he were that way inclined? Christ, as if he didn’t already feel filthy and perverted. Even if Howard hadn’t intended his Vince-watching-activities to get out of hand, he had violated the little man. Driven him to insomnia, to the cusp of a breakdown, all because he wanted to get closer to him. He coughed anxiously. “Six-forty-five surely. I’d, er- I’d make sure you had a nice dinner first. Strenuous sexual activity is no fun on an empty stomach, so I’ve heard…”

Vince could sense things going south. Howard was so tense you could string him between two trees and use him as a man-sized slingshot. He had to get the conversation back on track.

“That’s just it, isn’t it? I’ve barely had a proper meal lately, what with using all me cooking utensils as weapons in the night-times,” Vince reasoned, “That’s another reason why you should stay at mine tonight. You’re a well good cook, Howard. I’ll feel much better after some of your food, right?”

“You sure this isn’t a ploy to get a free meal out of me? I’m not your chef, sir.”

“Promise,” Vince nodded excitedly. He could finally see the finish line. “Come on, Howard. We’re gonna have a great time. We’ll be havin’ so much fun, that monster will scurry off back home as soon as he hears us, you just wait.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short one. Howard and Vince make the trip back to the lighthouse for the night.

They packed up early from the zoo, not even bothering to give Fossil an excuse. Vince jiggled enthusiastically in his seat as he and Howard rode the tram system up the winding hills from the Zooniverse to Vince’s lighthouse. The white and red tower was perched precariously among a field of wildflowers, overlooking the crystal blue ocean beyond. A narrow stone path wound its way to the front door, snaking up from the solitary tram stop. It was the final stop on that line, a desolate lamp post and a metal bench the only indications of use. The bench was rusted by the harsh sea winds and tarnished by neglect.

Despite the warm breeze dusting the coastal air, and the tranquil ocean view stretching out towards the horizon, Howard felt a wall of ice crash against him as he followed Vince out of the tram doors. It should have been pleasant, he thought, to see the Vince’s house in the light of day. He was so rarely invited over these days, what with Vince becoming more and more confident living alone.

There was a time, just after Vince left his final foster home to begin work at the zoo, that Howard could barely leave a room without the younger man trailing behind him, like a lost puppy. However irritated it had often made Howard feel at the time, there was nothing like the feeling of Vince wanting to have him around. This time, though, the invitation felt empty.

Vince was chattering contentedly at his side, unbothered by Howard’s reluctance to join in. If only he knew how familiar Howard was with the many turns of this worn path, hidden away amongst the flowers. How intimately aware Howard was with the front door’s squeaky lock, or the way the welcome mat always rolled up slightly when you wiped your feet, or the number of creaky steps from the entrance up to Vince’s living room.

Still, everything looked so unfathomably different in the light of day that Howard’s bones itched. He couldn’t help feeling like an intruder here.

~ ~

Once they entered the cluttered living room, Howard perched awkwardly on the couch while Vince shrugged off his Zooniverse jacket and went to put the kettle on. The interior of the lighthouse was so uniquely _Vince_ it nearly brought a tear to Howard’s eye. There were canvases strewn across the room, both painted and blank, piled up against any available surface. Technicoloured fairy lights were strung liberally across the rafters, dusting everything in the room with a soft rainbow glow. Vince’s Jagger shrine dominated the left side of the room. The alter was surrounded by memorabilia and what seemed like hundreds of colourful scented candles. They made the air smell vaguely of sweets. It was like a glimpse into Vince’s soul.

When Vince returned with two mugs, one glazed with pink and purple neon glitter, the other a slightly more subdued electric blue, he found Howard sitting bolt upright, rigid like a post. He set the cups down on the coffee table and descended onto the couch beside Howard.

“Alright?” he greeted, brows raised questioningly.

Howard hummed vaguely in agreement, his shoulders hunching slightly forward. Vince sensed he needed to pull out all the stops to rid Howard of his apprehension. This night together would be no fun at all if he couldn’t at least sneak in another cuddle while Howard was distracted.

“So,” Vince began, “which season of Colobus do you wanna to start with?”

Just as planned, the TV marathon helped loosen Howard up. So much so that Vince was able to shuffle closer each time the on-screen action got intense, finally coming to rest directly against Howard by the ending of the fourth episode. After two whole series, just as the sun was setting outside, Howard’s arm came to rest around Vince’s shoulders for the second time that day. Vince smiled giddily, his face light perfectly by the burnt orange glow of evening. Nothing could break this blissful peace.


	6. Chapter 6

“Where am I going to sleep tonight?” Howard piped up over their freshly made dinner. Vince was digging into his spaghetti with wholehearted enthusiasm, like it was the first proper meal he’d eaten in years. Howard restrained himself from wondering if that was the case.

“You can sleep in my bed,” Vince suggested hopefully.

“Where are you going to sleep then…?” Howard tried desperately to understand what Vince was suggesting. He couldn’t mean it like _that_ , surely.

“It’s a double, we can both fit. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed,” Vince said through a mouthful of Bolognese sauce. “Plus, the only other option is the couch, and it’s not really big enough for either of us, is it?”

“We’re not kids anymore. We can’t be… Anyway, err…” Howard fumbled, looking for a way out. There was absolutely no way he could sleep that close to his best friend, as if he didn’t feel enough like a pervert already. “You’re my apprentice, right Vince? That would be an abuse of my power as your mentor.”

“I wouldn’t mind!” A cheeky smile colonised the lower half of Vince’s face.

“No,” muttered Howard, busying himself by clearing the table. “It would be completely inappropriate.”

“So what? I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor, Howard.”

Howard muted his ears, focussing instead on washing the dishes thoroughly. He scrubbed the plates with artificial vigour, ignoring Vince standing aimlessly behind him. His neck prickled. He felt as if Vince was trying to read his mind. It was a mercy that he couldn’t.

This was the exact reaction Vince had been expecting earlier, when he had told Howard about the monster, a swift brushing aside. He was sure that, to Howard, denying Vince was like picking some stray cotton from his shirt. But, as always, Vince felt Howard’s rejection like a blow to his stomach. He wished Howard had never asked about their sleeping arrangements. Vince had already concocted a rigorous plan involving placating words, a few beers, and some gentle nudging towards the bedroom. Plans like that hadn’t worked since they were younger, not since Vince would sneak over to Howard’s house in the night, when his foster parents were asleep. They would stay up late swapping stories in the moonlight and finally snuggling up in together in Howard’s massive bed. But Vince had thought it was worth a shot this time.

He tried not to let it bother him that Howard had stopped being so affectionate once they arrived at the zoo. Vince had never known why it had all stopped, the feather-light touches during the day and the warm embraces when they were alone at night, but he didn’t dare question it. Well, not out loud, anyway. Most of the time he succeeded in blocking it out, but his earlier exhaustion was crushing down on him once more, and Vince couldn’t shake the new feeling irrevocable sadness.

~ ~

The kitchen sink gurgled deafeningly through the silence as the water finally drained out. Howard abandoned the now drying dishes and turned to face Vince. The younger man jolted at the sudden noise, biting furiously on his tongue to supress a scream. His fear nevertheless bubbled to the surface. It was getting late, Vince reasoned, and the monster couldn’t be far away.

Howard raised his brows questioningly, taking a step back to take in Vince’s dismayed expression. He resembled the sort of waxwork figure you might find in a carnival haunted house; gaunt, malnourished and on the brink of death. Though Howard’s previous fears for Vince’s state of health had been assuaged, there was no stopping the increasing sense of dread pulsating through his mind.

“Everything alright, little man?” he asked quietly, wary of startling Vince further.

However, just as Vince went to answer, a groaning clunk resonated from behind the kitchenette. Vince screeched, unable to supress his growing terror. Another noise echoed though the room, this time from behind the fridge. Vince gasped, shuddering violently, and all but leaping into Howard’s arms.

“What was that?!” he shrieked. Vince could feel his clothes shifting against his skin as he shook, his nerves were set alight.

“Probably just the pipes cooling,” Howard reassured him. His hands came out to rest on Vince’s shoulders, worried the smaller man may topple over. “It’s getting late, that’s all.”

Vince realised Howard was right; it was getting late. His eyes darted to the nearest window. Only the faint sliver of a new moon, and the lighthouse’s massive beacon, illuminated the seascape beyond. To Vince, the waves seemed to lurch and writhe in the darkness, like an ocean of serpents waiting for their main course. He felt ill just looking at them. He stepped closer to Howard, pushing himself up under one of his arms to stand, half hidden, behind him. Howard drew a breath, tightening his arm around Vince’s back instinctively.

“What if it’s the monster?” Vince whispered.

“It isn’t,” Howard said firmly. He needed to calm Vince down without seeming _too_ certain about the monster’s current location.

“You don’t know that! What if…?” Vince jumped. “Ahh! What’s that in the shadows?”

Howard looked to where Vince was pointing. Even though he knew there would be nothing there, he couldn’t help being startled. After all, the sudden appearance of strange, often murderous, creatures was not uncommon in their day to day lives.

“It’s…” Howard took a step closer to inspect the object. “It’s the clockwork squirrel I bought you while we were on our gap year. We found it in that street market in Amsterdam, don’t you remember? We went looking for the ice-cream van, got lost, and ended up in a tent full of creepy old toys.”

“Oh, yeah,” Vince breathed, the tension in his voice loosening. “He looked well lonely sitting at the back on his own. He was the only squirrel left, I had to give him a new home.”

Howard smiled fondly, despite his better judgement. Vince was giving him his ‘sad bushbaby’ eyes again, just like he had that day in Amsterdam. Only this time they weren’t the large blue eyes of a petulant teenager, wheedling his mate into buying him a new toy, they were the eyes of a frightened child reaching out in the dark. His bottom lip was quivering, and he looked ready to shake right out of his skin in fear. Howard felt wretched. Guilt rose all around him like quicksand, pulling him under. He was responsible for driving those terrified eyes onto Vince’s face. There was only one way to redeem himself; it was time for Howard Moon to take control.

“Come on, Vince,” Howard commanded gently, “let’s get you to bed.”

He rubbed Vince’s back in slow soothing motions, leading him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard Moon takes action.

Once inside Vince’s bedroom, Howard faltered slightly. Vince was still hugged his side, squeezing Howard’s torso like a vice, and jumping at every errant noise the lighthouse made. Howard moved towards Vince’s bed, lifting aside his sequined blankets with his free hand. He plumped the pillows awkwardly, aware that Vince was watching his every move.

“There you go, little man,” Howard announced, patting Vince’s back lightly and gesturing at the bed.

Vince blinked up at him. He looked painfully lost. He continued clinging to Howard’s side like a barnacle. Howard brushed his warm hands against Vince’s, calmly attempting to pry his friend away from him. However, no sooner had Howard extracted Vince’s shivering form from his arms than a gargantuan wave crashed against the shoreline below the lighthouse. Vibrations ricocheted violently up the tower. Vince leaped bodily into Howard once more, latching on like a spider monkey with his ankles locked around Howard’s thighs.

“It’s only the sea, Vince,” Howard comforted with a sigh. Vince was surprisingly heavy in his arms.

‘There goes my so-called redemption’, Howard considered mournfully. Ho couldn’t very well tuck Vince in and leaving him to his own devices now.

More waves crashed heavily against the coast. The wind was picking up, cold air whistling though the gaps under Vince’s weather-beaten windowsills. No matter how overwhelmingly exhausted Vince was, there was no chance he’d get to sleep on his own at this rate.

Grunting another sigh, Howard lifted Vince into a more solid embrace, kicked his shoes off, and heaved himself up onto the bed, taking Vince with him.

“Christ, Howard!” Vince yelped. “What are you doing, throwin’ me about like that?”

“Rescue mission,” Howard supplied.

“What’re you on about?”

“I’m saving you from the raging tides, yes sir!” bolstered Howard, putting on his most extravagant ‘outdoorsman’ voice. “You, fair maiden, were in peril. But I, Howard Moon, have come to save you from these treacherous seas.”

“Have you?” Vince played along reluctantly, giggling softly into Howard’s chest.

“You’re damn right, I have.” Howard said through a growing smile.

“What’re you gonna do, then?”

“I’ll come hard at those waves. I’ll rain salty fury down on them, yes sir. Old Poseidon will be begging for mercy when he’s faced with the power of the Moon. Pow!” Howard let go of Vince momentarily to shoot finger-guns in the direction of the water.

“D’you really think I’m a fair maiden?” Vince needled, finding himself relaxing into Howard’s fanciful tale. Howard spluttered for a moment, but righted himself quickly, and continued.

“Of course.” He said, with more honesty than he’d like to admit. “You’re the most beautiful monarch of the sea, watching over the ocean from high up in your glorious tower. Every noble man in the land would risk life or limb for your safety! Alas, I got here first.”

Perhaps too caught up in his story, Howard grasped Vince’s hand in his and brought it to his lips with a pompous kiss. Vince’s giggles bubbled over into hearty laughter, although a deep blush was settling on his cheeks. The tumultuous crashes of windswept waves continued beneath their feet, but they went unnoticed as Howard pulled the duvet around them both. Vince reached down to unzip his boots, amusement still playing on his lips. He placed his shoes beside the bed and shuffled back into Howard’s welcoming arms.

Howard smiled down at Vince, stroking his hair as if by force of habit. He thought back to their childhood. To all those nights curled up beside Vince in his tiny, overwhelmingly beige, bedroom in Leeds. It suddenly struck Howard how much he missed the contact. He’d often lamented trading the Vince’s warm embrace for his blow-up mattress on the keeper’s hut floor. The ache was stronger than ever, knowing fully what he had been missing out on.

But no, he thought ruefully, he hadn’t been missing out. Even if he and Vince had moved in together while working at the zoo, Howard knew full well that his hang-ups and constant paranoia would have put an end to all the night-time cuddles. The only reason it was happening again at all was because he had traumatised Vince into believing there was a monster out to get him. Even with Vince’s head peacefully pillowed against his chest, Howard remembered Vince’s wide haunted eyes, welling with exhausted tears.

He thought back to the countless childhood nights he had spent cradling Vince as he sobbed into his chest, Vince’s nightmares becoming too much for the young boy to take. At first, he had hidden them from Howard, but as they got older, and the dreams became more and more frequent, Howard had always been there to pick up the pieces. They had gotten better once Vince entered his teen years, either that or he had gotten better at hiding it. Knowingly or not, Howard had reinstated all of Vince’s childhood trauma in a matter of weeks. His bones oozed with guilt.

“Vince?” he began.

“Hmm,” Vince hummed back, his breath tickling Howard’s clavicle.

“Suppose I told you something awful…” Howard’s voice petered out, knowing this was a delicate confession to make. One wrong move, and Vince would never forgive him. He couldn’t afford to lose him forever. He cleared his throat and started again. “Suppose I had done something awful, a terrible monstrous thing, which I was deeply sorry about, but needed to come clean with you. How would you react?”

“Depends on the thing…” Dread crawled relentlessly up Vince’s spine.

Howard knew there was no turning back now. He hoped beyond hope that Vince would take this revelation well. As the younger man sat up and inched away, already distancing himself from Howard, the prospects of that didn’t seem high.

“The first thing I need you to remember is that I never intended for any of this to happen, I promise…”


	8. Chapter 8

Vince was silent throughout the entire confession. By the end, his eyes were raw and glazed with unshed tears. His hands were gripped painfully in his hair, errant strands hanging loose from his fists. Betrayal plagued the lines of his face. It was all too much to comprehend.

Howard had lied to him. Or… not so much lied as willfully left him in the dark. All day Vince had been pouring his heart out and laying it, still beating, on display for Howard’s scrutiny. Two incongruous realities lived simultaneously in Vince’s mind. There was the world in which Howard had comforted him, held him close as his world was falling apart. It still felt so close, like he could grasp onto it if he closed his eyes and believed hard enough. However, the world in which Howard, his closest friend, had terrorised him constantly for two whole weeks, was tarnishing this belief.

The thought that Howard continued to cuddle up to him, despite knowing the source of Vince’s anxieties was startling. Vince wondered if Howard had been keeping a record of every embarrassing little thing he had done, be it screaming at a toy squirrel or jumping into Howard’s arms, for blackmail purposes. The thought of it made him ill.

Looking back, the evidence for Howard’s suspect behaviour was as plain as day. From the brown shoe Vince found in his bear trap, to the oddly familiar noises the ‘monster’ made as it traipsed through Vince’s home. He felt like a complete idiot for missing the signs.

Part of him wondered if this was all just an elaborate prank. Vince knew that Howard was prone to holding resentments. He would often keep them bubbling away for so long that Vince would forget what he had done by the time Howard reaped his revenge. Too often, Vince would receive seemingly random insults from his friend, only to realise that they were comebacks to something he had said weeks before.

However, this didn’t feel like revenge. At least, not the kind that Howard would perform.

Vince knew Howard better than anyone else in the world, possibly even Howard himself, and he could tell when his friend was feeling guilty. His eyes darted about like a caffeinated gecko, hiding in the corners of the room, and shying away from the light. His shoulders hunched in on themselves, trying to escape the confines their sockets. His hands, like his eyes, flew about in a wild frenzy as he tried to elaborate quickly before his mouth had time to speak.

There was no way, Vince decided, that Howard could feel this guilty if he had intended his actions to hurt.

Once Howard had finished talking, the air hung quiet between them, with only the faint crashes of waves penetrating the silence. It was oppressively hot, sitting under the bed covers next to each other. Howard’s nerve caved first. He struggled out of the blankets, fully intent on run from the building in shame. Vince caught his arm before he could escape.

“Don’t,” Vince cautioned, his voice rough as sandpaper. “Stay. Let me think things over, okay?”

Howard complied, sitting stock still and waiting for his verdict.

Vince’s braincell looked back on Howard’s words, carefully scanning them for clues of intent. The confession had started with Howard’s suspicion that Vince was struggling to live on his own. Although Vince had never thought about it that way, he supposed that Howard had a point. There were only so many days you could turn up late to work without lunch or a clean uniform, rambling about the seagulls’ favourite pop singers, before it started to appear worrying. Since Vince never admitted anything was wrong, he could see why Howard had taken matters into his own hands.

Howard had also said that Vince had gotten more anxious since moving to the zoo, and he couldn’t fault that observation either. He had never had a proper job before, and between the burden of responsibility and the constant chatter of the animals all vying for attention, he often left the zoo stressed and irritable. Not to mention with a massive headache. It had just never seemed that Howard noticed these things. He was always chiding Vince about his work ethic, telling him to focus on the task at hand instead of fraternizing with the animals, but he had never sounded genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. But, given the circumstances, Vince was willing to consider that Howard expressed his worries in a different way.

Suddenly it struck him that this was exactly the way Howard had behaved with Mrs Gideon. He had been so infatuated with her, yet unable convey his feelings, that he was willing to construct elaborate plans just to spy on her. It wasn’t a sinister thing, at least Vince didn’t think it was. It was just the way Howard expressed his love.

While Vince supposed that, despite his best efforts, Howard’s feelings for him weren’t as romantic as they had been for Mrs Gideon, that didn’t make them any less sincere. A tender warmth slowly diffused into Vince’s veins as he contemplated this revelation. If Howard loved him enough to follow him home, and to watch over him every night just to ensure his safety, then Vince had fundamentally underestimated Howard’s devotion to him.

Although sneaking into somebody else’s house in the middle of the night would normally be grounds for a restraining order, Vince found it endearing that Howard would go to such lengths for him. Neither of them had been particularly adept at knowing which boundaries were safe to cross, but Vince decided that he was willing to teach Howard to channel his feelings into more legal pursuits.

“Were you really _that_ worried about me?” Vince asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Howard nodded solemnly.

“Okay then.” A gentle smile gracing his lips and he tilted his head, trying to catch Howard’s eyes.

“What…?!” Howard sputtered. “That’s it?”

“You’ve said sorry, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes. Of course, and I am sorry. My actions were completely-”

“Then I forgive you.” Vince interrupted. He was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that Howard had not intended the hurt he had caused. If anything, he had wanted to protect Vince from getting hurt. “And I know how you can make it up to me.”

“But I’m a terrible person Vince! I took advantage of you at your most vulnerable just to make myself feel better. That can’t be all you have to say! How are you not angry with me? I- Hold on. What do you mean ‘make it up to you’?” Howard twitched. “I thought you said you’ve forgiven me?”

“I did, and I have. Plus, I can’t stay angry at you, Howard. You’re adorable when you’re tryin’ to protect me.”

Vince placed his hand on Howard’s leg, rubbing circles through the fabric before he had time to object.

“Don’t-” Howard faltered, looking down anxiously at Vince’s hand. He couldn’t understand the meaning of the contact, but he felt, absolutely, that he didn’t want it to end. “I’m lost… sorry.”

“Here’s the deal, alright.” Vince began, pulling his blankets back around them and snuggling down into Howard’s welcoming thigh. “I’m going to have a sleepy cause I’m absolutely knackered, and you’re gonna keep me company. Cause you were right; it can get pretty lonely up here on my own. I do need you around sometimes, you just went about looking after me all wrong, yeah?”

“Well…” Howard could sense understanding looming as Vince nuzzled into his chords.

“And I reckon I need a right good cuddling to smooth this all over.”

Vince coerced Howard effortlessly into laying down beside him. After a moment’s contemplation, Howard let his fingers card through Vince’s smooth feathered hair, rhythmically massaging his scalp. Occasionally Howard’s knuckles grazed against a hardened clump of bubble gum in Vince’s hair, left over from his ordeal with Charlie.

The younger man yawned heavily, pressing down into Howard’s chest to catch his heartbeat. Years ago, in Howard’s cramped little childhood bedroom, Vince had often used it to ground himself. The muffled heartbeat coupled with Howard’s radiant warmth reminded him of home. It took him back to winter nights spent in the jungle, huddled tightly within a pack of animals, staving off the piercing cold.

It took Vince mere minutes to fall asleep, cocooned in Howard’s strong yet gentle arms. He hadn’t slept so soundly, he later decided, in his entire life. Though he still loved the lighthouse, with its expansive ocean views and nautical whimsy, Vince accepted that it was time to move on. He was still young, after all. He shouldn’t be expected to maintain a house all on his own, especially not one which was also used by sailors to guide them from shore.

He wondered if Howard still felt guilty enough to let him kip at the Zooniverse for a while. There was always room for one more sleeping bag on that dirty wooden floor.

Vince left those thoughts for the morning, focussing instead on the soft caresses of Howard’s hands. Tomorrow was a new day, he mused, and he couldn’t wait to wake up in Howard’s arms, with the roar of the waves bringing him gently back to shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all folks.  
> I had so much fun writing this, so I hope the reading experience was equally as enjoyable :)


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